I waited, breathed. “What? What did you figure out?”
“I—” Her liquid brown eyes poured into mine. I could almost feel her heart aching. “I figured out that I’m not as strong as I want to be. As I wish I was. I want to be able to say I’ll do this alone, because it’s what my mind wants, but my heart knows I can’t do it without you. And I hate that I’m so weak.”
I scooped her into my arms. “You’re not weak, baby. You’re one of the strongest people I know.” I kissed the top of her head, her temple, as love flooded me and I felt guilty for it. I don’t deserve the trust she’s placing in me.
She clutched at my shirt. “Reed . . .”
Her hot tears soak my shoulder. “Oh, Mel, I’m not going anywhere.” I swear it like a penance. “Never.” Never, never, never . . .
I swallow my fears and anxieties like doses of bitter medicine; shove them back to be examined another time. What was important was that I had Mel and Peanut back, she loved me, she needed me, and my world was back on its axis.
School settled back into a routine. Jonah and Chloe were a couple and I avoided him when he was with her as much as possible. Mel seemed less miserable now and I sure didn’t want to stir up that hornet’s nest. The only things to give away that our lives were not back to normal were her ever-growing belly and my ever-growing worry. Some days I thought I might implode.
But I tucked it away.
Away from Jonah. He’d never understand.
Away from my parents. They were still trapped in their own denial and disappointment.
Away from Melissa. I’d sworn to stay and make this work. Not burden her with my fear.
I suffered in silence.
And it sucked.
But the deal with ticking time bombs? They always explode. And it’s messy business.
I just didn’t know when my fuse was going to blow.
Thirteen days after Mel and I made up, I was at work closing up the theater, thankful for the quiet. No screeching kids, no relentless pinging of popcorn kernels popping, no idle chatter. Nothing. Just the scratch of my broom against the floor and my thoughts, which were blessedly quiet.
Suddenly, Mr. Ross’ booming voice echoed through the theater. “Young!”
My head snapped up. “Sir?”
“In my office. Now.” He turned without waiting for my response and I watched his retreating back in shock as my heart began to thud. I hadn’t been in his office since the day I’d left when Mel was bleeding. He didn’t call you in there just to chat. Shit.
I tucked my broom in the corner, swiped my sweaty hands down my pants and trudged that way.
I knocked on the doorframe and poked my head in his open door. “Sir?”
Mr. Ross didn’t glance up from his computer screen. His round face looked drawn, dark circles ringed his eyes like half-moons. “Come in. Sit down.”
I sat in the same chair he’d interviewed me in and noticed the scent of stale coffee; the half-eaten slice of sausage pizza on his desk.
He finally pivoted his chair and pinned me with his eyes. “Young.”
“Sir?”
“I had you train Timmons, didn’t I?” He folded his hands across his stomach and leaned back.
I swallowed. “Jeremiah? Yes, sir.”
He said nothing for a moment, his eyes taking me in. I squirmed in my seat under his scrutiny. He tapped his index fingers together. “And . . . what did you think of him?”
I shrugged, not sure where this was going. “I . . . he was fine, I guess.”
Mr. Ross sat forward, his chair squeaking painfully. “Well, I have a problem, Young. You wanna know what that is?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but he apparently didn’t care what I had to say.
“I have a problem with thieves.”
“I—” My gut turned to ice. He thought . . . ?
I stared blankly at him, as the blood rushed through my ears loud enough to rival the ocean. Was I about to get fired? I was guilty of a lot of things . . . but not this.
“Well, Young?” he demanded, finally breaking through my haze of fear.
“Sir?”
He tilted his head, taking in my face. “Timmons’ till in the snack bar has come up significantly short nearly every night he’s worked. I asked if you noticed anything strange while you were training him? Is he slow, or do you think he’s stealing?”
Oh, God. Okay. Relief swamped me nauseatingly. “I don’t know, Mr. Ross.” I swallowed, tasting my reprieve. “But I don’t think he’s slow.” I felt like a traitor saying it, but it was true.
Mr. Ross studied me, his dull eyes—tired eyes, I realized—assessing me. “Why do you think he might steal money? Twenty, forty bucks a night isn’t much really when he has his hands on hundreds.”
My first real conversation with Jeremiah blazed through my memory. The one that had put the fear of God in me and nearly severed everything I had with Mel for good. The crying baby, hormonal girl, expense . . .
Should I tell?
Jeremiah had done himself in, hadn’t he?
I shrugged and glanced toward a row of family photos Mr. Ross had tucked behind his desk. A semi-pretty, red-headed wife, a couple of kids who looked about my age, one darker than the other. A suburban family on a suburban vacation with mountains in the background. Very cozy.
I turned back to Mr. Ross. “I’m not sure if he took any money. But if he did, it was probably for his baby.”
“Ah . . .” He seemed to mull this over for a moment. Then he zeroed his gaze back on me. “You’re having a baby, aren’t you?”
I nodded.
“And you don’t steal from me. You just work hard. Why’s that?”
I shrugged.
A tiny half-smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “You know, Son, I’m not so different from you two.” His eyes flicked to the family picture I’d looked at earlier then back to me. “I was young once. Screwed up. Got a girl pregnant.” His gaze all of a sudden looked a million miles away. “Scared the shit outta me, but I married her, did the right thing by her. We made it work.” He snapped back to the present. “It’s the hardest things sometimes that make them the right things, Young.”
I simply stared at him.
He smiled. “You know what I mean, don’t you, boy?”
Well . . . I kinda thought maybe I did.
October 10th
Reed is working today and I was moping around the house. Chris took pity on me and we walked down to the beach. He even bought me an Icee. We talked, it was nice. I miss him. And I know he could never understand exactly how I feel, though I can tell he tries.
It seemed like maybe he had something on his mind, but he didn’t spill. I kinda wish he had . . . that he had some deep, dark secret that would make him human, not as perfect as everyone thinks . . . because I sure haven’t seen him screw up. Not like I did.
But he smiled and joked about my belly looking like grandpa’s. He asked about the baby. What it feels like to be pregnant. If I was scared. But he never brought up adoption. I think he might truly be the only one in my life where that stat doesn’t matter.
We had a sand fight, too, and he totally annihilated me (as usual) but I loved being with him today. A slice of my old life with no fear, no shame, no secrets.
Silent Suffocation
I left Mr. Ross’s office with a promotion to shift manager and a weird sense of camaraderie. I’d never known a grown person who had been through what I was facing and was happy to tell the tale.
It was a relief.
I was grinning on my way home.
Home.
The place took on a new meaning for me as I pulled up and studied its freshly painted sage green exterior. The last project my dad and I had completed together in happier, simpler times. I parked beneath the pilings next to my dad’s boat, which hadn’t been taken out in way too long, and watched as one of my sister’s big plastic balls rolled out from the corner as if seeking retreat. Maybe it wanted simpler times
, too.
I suddenly realized that I’d been longing for the comfort of home for weeks, maybe months, now. But it had been stripped from me ever since the night of The Great Disappointment. I’d become a stranger in my own home, unable to communicate with those I loved. Unable to reach them. Unable to bridge our divide.
And I had no idea why.
Yes, I’d made a big, fat, stupid mistake. The epitome of dumb.
But was it so unforgivable?
Now tired, I let myself inside the silent house and found the light above the stove on as I quietly shuffled in for a glass of juice.
“Hey, buddy.”
I jumped at my dad’s voice and spun to find him sitting in the darkened corner of the dining table nursing his old chipped Grand Canyon mug. “Oh. Hey.”
His smile was muted by the darkness and he brought his cup to his lips. “Late night at work?”
I nodded and poured my drink. “Yup.”
“Mmmm,” he murmured benignly as he set his mug down and studied it as if he had something on his mind.
I could literally feel our relationship chipping away in inches and pieces, slipping away, hemorrhaging by thousands of tiny paper cuts.
A slow, silent, mutual suffocation.
And as much as I hated it, I didn’t know what to say to stop it.
He drained his cup and stood, taking it to the sink, placing it inside with a dull thunk. He turned to go, his slippered feet sliding along the tile.
“Hey, Dad?”
He paused and faced me. “Yeah?”
I still didn’t know what to say, but figured something was better than nothing as I tried to staunch one of those paper cuts. “Mr. Ross promoted me to shift manager.”
His smile seemed genuine. “Really?”
I nodded.
“That’s great, buddy. Good job. I’m proud of you.”
He tapped the kitchen doorframe a couple times and left for bed with a nod goodnight without waiting for my response.
But that was probably for the best.
My heart was somewhere tangled in my throat and I’m not sure I could’ve spoken anyway. That was the first time my dad had looked at me with anything besides utter disappointment since the night of truth.
Yeah, remember that thing about time bombs?
I should’ve.
My first night as shift manager was going spectacularly. Mr. Ross was being kinda non-curmudgeony, the other kids on shift were being cool about my new promotion, and to top it off, Melissa stopped by to show her love, looking especially cute in maternity jeans and a little pink T-shirt.
“Hey, babe.” She breezed up to the concession counter smelling like sunshine and strawberries.
I grinned. “Hi.”
She leaned over with a conspiratorial smile. Her eyes darted around, and when she was apparently satisfied no one was looking, she planted a kiss on my cheek, leaving a sticky lip print from her gloss behind.
“What’re you doing here?” I asked.
“What? I can’t see my boyfriend?” At my stare, she relented and hiked her thumb toward Roxanne and a couple other girls huddled near the theater entrance. “We came to see a movie. I—”
“Young!” She was cut off by an angry bellow.
Her eyes widened and she pivoted as I took in a vibrating, very pissed off Jeremiah Timmons behind her.
Jeremiah’s eyes darted from me to Mel and her belly, then back to me. “You got me fired.”
The lobby suddenly became deathly quiet as everyone seemed to wait for me to speak. “Dude—”
“I got a kid, too, you know,” he said, his eyes on Mel again.
She spun back to me, her eyes puzzled and a little sad.
Jeremiah took a step forward, his stance suddenly menacing, his eyes pinned to Mel. “And your girl . . . your kid . . . ain’t no more important than mine.” His furious eyes snapped back to me.
“No, Jeremiah. Of course not.”
He sucked a breath in through his nose, shook his head. He looked baked. How had I missed that he was half-crazy? “Then why did you fuckin’ get me fired, man? You knew I needed this job!”
“I didn’t! I didn’t,” I repeated calmer when his face reddened and he seemed to be barely holding on to his temper. “I swear. Mr. Ross asked me about your till being short, and I told him I didn’t know. That’s all.”
He ran his hands through his disheveled hair and paced a few steps then back until he was within arm’s reach of Melissa. Adrenalin flooded my system and my gut clenched painfully at the raging gleam in his eyes.
This was spiraling out of control way too fast.
And now Mel looked scared.
I inched my way around the counter until I faced him.
I glanced quickly to Mr. Ross’s office in the corner and saw his head poke out just as the security officer started our way. The tittering of the crowd surrounding us was rising. Mel’s eyes were pleading, confused. Jeremiah’s crazy anger was rising. I had to handle this.
But then he snaked an arm around Mel’s throat and yanked her against him. “I didn’t steal anything!” he screamed.
I blanked. But only for a moment. Then I cued into the sheer panic on Mel’s face and my fuse lit.
Detonated, more like it.
I pounced on him like a wild cat, ripping his arms from her throat, then I started wailing on him, unleashing all my pent up anger, frustration, general pissed off-ness, like nobody’s business. And I was just getting started.
I kicked that loser’s ass until the security guy yanked me off and Mel’s cries forced me from my anger-induced crimson haze.
Someone else picked Jeremiah up and got him out of there while he stared me down with one swelling eye, blood oozing down his lip, his brow. He said nothing as he limped away. Guess we were done.
Coming down off my emotional rampage, I faced Mel. “Oh, Reed,” she cried, brushing the hair from my forehead and touching my left eye.
I winced.
Maybe he’d gotten in a hit or two after all.
Sneaking a glance over at Mr. Ross, I found him staring at me with inscrutable eyes. Shit.
I looked briefly at the officer, but he was watching Jeremiah shove out the main doors. “Be right back,” I said to Mel.
Head bowed, I made my way over to my boss. “Sir.”
“Young.”
I dabbed my forehead. Still no blood, but a small goose egg was forming. “Am I fired, sir?” I forced myself to meet his steely gaze and take it like a man.
He sighed, glancing around the lobby. Everything had pretty much gone back to normal, my little escapade apparently forgotten. “No.”
My gaze snapped up. “No?”
He studied my face. “No. The punk had it coming.” He flicked a glance behind me before turning for his office. “Now get back to your girl.”
“Okay. Thank—”
“But don’t let it happen again or you’re outta here,” he said over his shoulder just before his door slammed in my face.
October 12th
OMG! I needed to get out of the house, so me, Roxanne, and a couple other girls went to the movies—a bonus for me because I was getting to see Reed. But, this guy Jeremiah he’s told me about, showed up all pissed off like it was Reed’s fault he lost his job. Something about his kid being just as important?
But then he grabbed me in some kind of choke hold and I was suddenly bombarded with all the same emotions I had on That Night. I was helpless, frozen. All I could do was look at Reed’s face.
And, man, Reed just went off! He jumped that guy and beat the crap out of him.
I was scared, but it was over fast. I so wish this Reed would’ve been there that night—the fierce, protective Reed. Things could’ve been so different.
Would I even be pregnant?
Spun Sugar Love
“Happy Anniversary!”
I blinked and stared at Melissa’s shining face. Oh, shit. What kind of asshole was I? I totally forgot. Guess there went my
plan of telling her about Robin and eating whatever crow I had to before kissing her feet for the rest of the year if necessary.
Guess I’d just be kissing her feet. No way in hell was I going to ruin today for her. Not when she was looking at me like that . . . like I was the one who suspended every planet in the sky and painted it with stars just for her.
I smiled and drew her close and inhaled her sunshine scent. “You, too, baby.” I brushed a kiss to her temple, her hair. “What do you want to do today?”
She sat back and glanced around my newly detailed idling car. “I don’t care. I’m just glad we get a weekend together.” She clung to my hand. “We don’t have to do anything.”
“Ah, well, then that would totally ruin my romantic surprise.”
She grinned. “Surprise?”
Yeah, it was a surprise to me, too, but I was flying off the cuff here for my girl—an innocent, snowy lie that would do nothing to purify my others, but it was a start. “Yeah. Buckle up.”
She slid on her seatbelt without an argument and shot me a confused smile. Had it been that long since I’d done something spontaneous and fun? Teenage-like?
I brushed the thought away and started the hour long drive northeast toward the Kemah boardwalk.
We were going to be Reed and Melissa again today. Not parents-to-be. Not the kids who screwed up. Not the scared idiots who didn’t know how they were going to raise a baby.
Just us.
My plan? To excavate the Melissa Summers who didn’t worry about being adopted. I wanted the girl back who loved horror movies and junk food and hot pink and koala bears and that boy band that made me gag and laughed at my dumb jokes. And who was my best friend who loved me.
Selfish, maybe. Necessary, I thought so.
I drove into the glowing horizon until we reached our destination with its signature arching sign and the slowly spinning Ferris wheel, and she sat up with a kid-like grin. “You’re kidding!”
“Nope.”
I hopped out and rounded to open her door. “My lady.” I helped her out then whisked her against me and pressed my lips to hers, swallowing her surprised squeak. It only took her a moment to melt against me, her arms circling my neck, her fingers threading through my hair.
Two Blue Lines (Crossing The Line #1) Page 12